


Warm Marble

by RosieTheRo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, deity/worshiper, mythology AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRo/pseuds/RosieTheRo
Summary: Was it unusual to worship at the Sun God’s temple in the middle of the night?Perhaps. But then again, Toris was hardly a usual worshiper.





	Warm Marble

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little ditty that's been on my mind lately. I really wanted to focus on the little tactile details on this one.
> 
> Contains brief mention of sex and some alcohol.

Was it unusual to worship at the Sun God’s temple in the middle of the night?

Perhaps. But then again, Toris was hardly a usual worshiper. 

With the rest of the village asleep, he trod alone down the stone halls, a lantern in one hand and a small pot of burning sage and incense in the other. The heady smell filled the temple, made Toris’ lungs feel warm as he breathed it in.

At the back of the temple stood the statue. Life size, immaculately carved, the village’s guardian deity watched over his followers, marble eyes gazing out from the hilltop temple. From atop his pedestal, he held his hand out and down, offering aid to any who asked, protection to those in need. The marble of his hand was smooth, worn away slightly from all those who had grasped it over the generations, murmuring their prayers and making their offerings. Plush cushions were laid out before the statute, giving worshipers a place to kneel comfortably during prayer, or a comfortable bed for the sick to sleep and be healed at their guardian’s feet.

Toris sat among the cushions, setting his lantern aside so it was well away from the fabric, and gently placing the pot of incense at the base of the pedestal in offering. It was a formality by this point; Toris’ unique status in the village meant he need not go through the motions of worship if he did not want to.

Still, even though he knew he was considered special, Toris was determined to remain humble. He was no better, nor more important than any other resident of the village, and he would not let this get to his head.

Though, with how lavishly and adoringly Alfred spoiled him sometimes, Toris was kind of amazed his ego had stayed in check at all over the years.

He was smiling, amused as he stood up, quirking his head up at the statue. He did wonder, still, what made the Sun God choose him out of the whole village. A shepherd's son who lost himself too often in books, he had little to offer the world but wool and over-analysis of poetry. He had few friends, no enemies, no living family and no plans to make one either. 

But something in him had caught the deity’s attention, and Toris was extremely grateful for it.

Like thousands of others, he reached up and clasped the statue’s open hand. The marble was warm to the touch, unnaturally so, as the statue had been in shadow for several hours and should not have retained any heat from the sun for this long.

The stone became warmer under his hand, and softer, and Toris’ heart swelled with affection as he watched the statue’s stoic face split into a wide smile, his guarding gaze drawn down to him.

Stone turned to flesh, the Sun God stepped down from the pedestal and embraced Toris, gripping him tightly and burying his face in his hair. “Oh, I have missed you so much.”

Toris hummed softly, looping his arms around Alfred's back and resting his head against his shoulder. “I have missed you too, my lord. Welcome back.”

Alfred pulled back, smiling wide and eyes sparkling. “Tell me! How have you been? How are the sheep, the chickens? Tell me everything!”

“The sheep and the chickens are fine, my lord,” Toris laughed softly. “As am I.”

Alfred looked a little disappointed. “Can you not tell me more?”

“I suppose,” Toris mused. “But it is hardly anything interesting. I am sure it would bore you.”

“I am sure it would not!” Alfred replied. He knelt on the cushions, keeping gentle hold of Toris’ hand, a welcoming smile on his golden face. “I am here solely for you tonight, beloved. Please, do tell me everything!”

Flattered and flustered, still thrown off to see his deity kneeling before him so humbly, Toris sat upon the cushions, back against the marble pedestal. Alfred sidled right up beside him, a solid warmth against his side that made his face flush pink, and wound their fingers together.

“You wish to hear everything, my lord?”

Alfred kissed his knuckles. “Yes please, beloved.”

It had been two seasons since Toris had last taken the statue’s hand. He had six month’s worth of mundane, day-to-day activity to regale, and Alfred hung diligently to every word. The moon and stars slid steadily across the sky as he ran through repairing his chicken coop, nursing a sick ewe back to health, helping birth the new lambs, treating himself to a new book of poetry, and more. Whenever he felt he was running out of things to say, Alfred pressed for more, asked about his chores, the other villagers, the local wildlife, anything and everything it seemed. 

The moon had slid into a nearby window and out of sight again when Toris stopped in the middle of describing the wildflowers near his house, swallowing and feeling his mouth had gone dry.

“I am sorry, my lord,” he said, abashed. “I’m afraid I’ve become quite parched- oh!”

Alfred was suddenly holding a silver goblet out to him, an apologetic smile on his face. “No, I am sorry, beloved. I did not mean to make you talk for so long. Here, drink.”

Toris accepted the goblet gratefully, untangling his hand from Alfred’s for the first time since they sat down. The drink smelled sweet and heady, and the cup was warm against his palms. He took a deep drink, the thick, fruity wine spilling over his tongue and soothing his dry throat. He let out a small, quiet mumble, pausing to exhale before he drank again.

“I am sorry,” Alfred repeated, pushing Toris’s hair out of his face gently as he lowered the goblet. “I was too engrossed in what you were saying.”

“There is no need to apologize, my lord,” Toris smiled. “I appreciate being listened to, dull as what I have to say is.”

“It is hardly dull,” Alfred said, pressing a kiss to Toris’ brow, lips warm and soft against his skin. “I love it when you tell me these things.”

Face warm, Toris took another sip, pondering. “My lord, if I ask you a question, do you promise to answer me honestly?”

“Of course.”

He licked a drop of wine from his lower lip, thumb rubbing the goblet’s rim. He watched the wine rise to fill the cup once again, corner of his mouth quirking up. 

“Is what I have to say truly that engaging to you? I feel the everyday life of a shepherd must pale awfully compared to the everyday life of a god. What do I have to say that is so interesting to you?”

Alfred’s hand rested on his shoulder, and slid down his back. Warmth seeped from the tips of his fingers through Toris’ clothes, soaking into his skin and spine.

“If I am being honest - as you have asked of me - the life of a shepherd is far more appealing than the life of a god,” Alfred mused quietly. He leaned closer, pressed comfortably side-by-side with Toris, thumb stroking his shoulder blade. “To me, at least.”

“You surprise me, my lord,” Toris laughed with disbelief. “My life seems such a bore compared to yours.”

“Perhaps that is the problem,” Alfred said. He gently guided one of Toris’ hands away from the goblet and kissed his palm. Toris could feel him smile against his skin. “We are comparing our lives to each other’s.”

“My lord?”

“The life of a god is fraught with conflict,” Alfred sighed. “The Moon and I are constantly vying for more time in the sky, Summer and Winter keep forcing Spring and Autumn apart. Should any quarrel between lovers happen, the entire pantheon becomes involved and we usually end up going to war over it. Everyone has lain with everyone else and no one wants to admit it.” He huffed, sliding back against the pedestal. “Compared to that, the life of a mortal shepherd seems blissfully peaceful.”

“I suppose I can understand that perspective,” Toris mused. “The life of a god seems glorious to a mortal, the life of a mortal seems peaceful to a god.”

“Perspective is everything.”

Alfred’s hand slid around his waist and Toris leaned into the embrace. He kissed his forehead again, and Toris sighed with a soft smile. “Perhaps I should learn to appreciate the life I already have.”

“I think you already do, and quite well,” Alfred said softly, nose nuzzled against his hair. “I’ve heard you speak about your animals and your home enough times to know you are truly thankful for what life has given you.”

“You flatter me, my lord.”

“Good. That is my intention.”

Toris chuckled, eyes slipping shut. The incense warmed his chest, the wine warmed his belly, and Alfred was a constant, solid presence beside him, gentle heat soaking through his clothes and into his skin. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” he mumbled, head tilting to rest against Alfred’s shoulder. His lips brushed against a scattering of freckles as he spoke. “I seem to be getting sleepy.”

“No need for forgiveness,” Alfred said softly. His arm shifted, curling around Toris’ shoulder and cuddling him closer. He took the goblet and Toris let his hands drop lazily. “It is late. Sleep if you wish, beloved.”

Toris hummed vaguely, turning into the embrace. “My lord?”

“Yes?”

“May I be selfish?”

Alfred chuckled, wrapping both arms around him and kissing his crown. “I will always let you be selfish, beloved.”

Toris let out a quiet laugh, little more than a sigh. “Will you stay with me until tomorrow, my lord?”

“Ah, that is the one thing I cannot promise,” Alfred said, sounding saddened. “The sunrise will not happen by itself.”

“Hmm… a shame,” Toris mumbled. “I’d love to… to show you the farm…”

Alfred kissed his cheek and stroked his spine. “I will be there, beloved. The sun will shine all day for you tomorrow, all for you.”

“You are making me so spoiled…” Toris smiled, trailing off into a yawn.

“You needn’t worry about that,” Alfred murmured, lips brushing his ear. “If you still ask permission to be selfish, you are certainly not spoiled.”

“Mmm… may I still be a little selfish, then?”

A soft, warm laugh puffed against his cheek. “Absolutely.”

“Will you stay until dawn…?”

“Now that, I can manage.”

He was vaguely aware that he was being laid down, sinking into the soft cushions. The silk was smooth against his cheek, and he nuzzled into it sleepily. Alfred’s warm fingers threaded into his hair and rubbed lightly against the nape of his neck.

Toris awoke, facing the temple entrance, flooded with pink and orange light as the sun peeked over the hills on the horizon. He blinked, a slow smile spreading over his face as he pushed himself to his feet. He gathered the burnt-out lantern and ashy remnants of the incense and straightened his robes, turning to smile at the marble statue back in place atop the pedestal.

There was a chill in the air when he stepped outside, but he could tell it was going to be a warm, clear day. He breathed deep and beamed, and for a moment, the sunshine hitting his face felt like a lover’s touch.

“Good morning, my lord,” he said, and stepped down the path back towards the village.


End file.
